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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29310966">Just add water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crafty7angel05/pseuds/Crafty7angel05'>Crafty7angel05</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Existential Crisis, Gen, Holy Water, Narrator God (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:41:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29310966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crafty7angel05/pseuds/Crafty7angel05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That plant mister might’ve been more dangerous than Hastur thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Just add water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I got this idea into my head the other day that Hastur might’ve reconsidered the effects of the plant mister’s water on Crowley’s hand if he thought Crowley was already resistant to holy water. Of course they don’t know about the switch though haha</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had been sitting in a bathtub of holy water. </p><p>He had been sitting in a bathtub of holy water, <em>and he didn’t dissolve. </em>

</p><p>Of all the things Hastur, duke of Hell, had witnessed in his thousands-years existence, he had never seen a demon survive execution by holy water. It was unheard of. Crowley had had the nerve to ask for a <em>rubber duck</em>, for Satan’s sake. </p><p><em>But if this was true—what did that mean for the liquid inside that blasted plant mister?</em>, thought Hastur. The explosion he himself had caused would’ve surely would’ve killed him had he been any closer that day. He shuddered with an intensity reachable only by those who had inadvertently escaped death and realized in retrospect the danger they’d been in. Being trapped in an ansaphone with—<em>who was it, Aziraphale?</em>—‘s message repeating for eternity paled in comparison. What he believed he had observed was a droplet of tap water fallen onto Crowley’s uncovered hand may have turned into his demise thanks to his own arrogance.</p><p>He would never feel guilty about such a thing, of course. More nastiness, the better. But if there was one thing he valued, it was his continued existence. He had seen with horrified eyes and soul what happened to Ligur, and, with much less emotional attachment, what happened to that small demon when they came into contact with holy water. They fizzled, polluted the air with their repugnant steam, and drowned in a puddle filled to bursting with their own misery. It was <em>extinction</em>, as Beelzebub put it. It was disappearing forever, their very essence irrecoverable by mere corporations. </p><p>Damn it all to Hell, did he have to be careful around <em>Crowley</em> of all demons? Avoiding him from now on might do the trick. Crowley was truly unforgivable, though an utterly incompetent demon, for sure—it was beyond him how he received so many commendations by Hell’s superiors for doing so little work—but that meant he wouldn’t put in the effort, wouldn’t be spiteful enough (or so Hastur hoped) to hunt him down if he stayed out of the bastard’s way. He wasn’t willing to test the extent of that incompetence. </p><p>What had Crowley said? <em>“You’re probably thinking, if he can do this, I wonder what else he can do?”</em>

</p><p>He had been in denial at first. But Beelzebub had a point, the other demons would riot if they got the idea into their heads that they would achieve the same results upon rebelling against Hell. It deeply pained him to restrain himself. Demons of Hell had evil in their job descriptions. A few were simply assholes. Hastur himself loved, if you could say he loved anything, to get revenge. He was petty and sadistic by nature, perhaps even more so than required—in him, both evil and assholeishness were present. It was <em>fun</em> to torture his enemies and opposers, or anything unfortunate enough to be in his line of sight, really. As a matter of fact, if he had less self-preservation, he’d tell Crowley he was bluffing again, like he had in the first place. If he had more sense he would’ve realized he’d been right. </p><p>Hastur, being old fashioned like most other demons, was never one for flashy, elaborate plans, anyhow. As it was, the switch Crowley and Aziraphale had made would go unnoticed by Heaven and Hell, with the exception of surface level intimidation towards the angels and demons witnessing their execution-that-wasn’t. Left alone in the future, indeed. </p><p>And, for better or for worse, Crowley would have one less demon carelessly knocking on his doorstep.</p>
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